


Can I Love You?

by Phoenix94



Category: Junjou Romantica
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Blow Jobs, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Past Relationship(s), Physical Abuse, Rape, Self-Harm, alternate universe-different first meeting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-11 03:05:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5611489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenix94/pseuds/Phoenix94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been four years since Hideki Kishi and I began dating. It's been three years since he started abusing me on a nearly daily basis. I finally got away from him and now I've got myself a brat of a roommate who wants to know one thing: Can I love you?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

My hands shake as I press the blade to my wrist. I know I shouldn’t be doing this, especially at work, but I need some way to cope.  
_“Just shut up!” Kishi shouted, pushing me._  
 _This wasn’t normal. This wasn’t my Kishi. This was someone who wanted to hurt me._  
 _He didn’t care that I hit my head on the shelf. He didn’t care that I was afraid of him. He didn’t care about me. He hasn’t for a long time, and I don’t know what I did to make him stop caring_.  
A sad sigh escapes me as my mind races through last night’s events. I don’t understand why Kishi hurts me. What I did to make him hurt me.  
“Kamijo, are you okay?” Miyagi asks through the closed bathroom door.  
“I'm fine,” I reply, pulling my sleeve over the fresh cuts.  
The look he gives me when I leave the bathroom tells me he knows I'm anything but fine. I don’t care.  
“Hideki-san called while you were gone,” he informs me.  
_Fuck. He never calls at work unless I’ve been bad_ , I think, swallowing hard.  
“Did he say what he wanted?” I ask, my voice coming out rougher than usual.  
“He said it’s important and that you need to call him back,” Miyagi replies.  
I nod slowly. I'm not sure what I could’ve done this time.  
Kishi’s in a really bad mood when I call him.  
“When you get home, your ass is mine,” he snaps.  
“Yes, Kishi,” I murmur timidly.  
Hot tears are running down my cheeks. He can probably hear that I'm crying, but it doesn’t bother him.  
“Your ass is the only thing you’re good for. You’re stupid. You’re not that good-looking. You can’t do anything,” he tells me.  
“I'm sorry, Kishi,” I whisper.  
“How you made it as a professor, I’ll never understand. Did you blow the Dean? Or Miyagi? Or did you let them fuck your pathetic little ass?”  
“N-n-no. I wouldn’t do that.”  
“Like hell you wouldn’t. I know you sleep around.”  
“Kishi, I'm not like that.”  
“You and I both know what a slut you are. Don’t deny it, Hiroki.”  
He hangs up on me. The silence is welcome.  
“Kamijo, what’s going on?” Miyagi asks.  
How much do you know? I ask myself.  
“Nothing,” I reply, opening my laptop.  
“Is he hurting you?” Miyagi presses.  
I lower my head in shame. I don’t want anyone to know.  
“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asks gently.  
I shake my head. I don’t want to talk about it.  
He leaves me be after that. I'm grateful.  
Kishi’s waiting for me when I get home. I haven’t even gotten my shoes off before he slaps me. He beats me until I'm cowering in the corner in the fetal position.  
“I told you your ass is mine,” he snarls, dragging me to my feet by my wrist.  
He slams my chest against the wall before forcing my khaki slacks down my slim hips where they puddle at my feet. I wish I knew what I’d done to make him rape me. To make him hate me. The metallic clank of his belt being undone sends a shudder down my spine. He slides the leather belt around my throat to make it easier to choke me and threads the end back through the buckle. He pulls it taut until I begin rasping for air. I feel the ice-cold buckles pulling the tender hairs at the nape of my neck and the leather biting into my skin.  
“That’s gonna happen every time you scream,” he growls, slipping his zipper down.  
I swallow convulsively. My jaw clenches in preparation for the assault.  
His first thrust makes my head hit the wall. My muscles, inside and out, scream with pain. He doesn’t relent. I feel my warm blood streaming down my thigh; it doesn’t matter. My eyes are full of unshed tears as he continues. I used to struggle, but he only beat me for it. I manage not to scream, even when his rough pace increases to the point where each thrust forces me onto my toes. I'm grateful when I'm told to shower after he finishes inside me.  
Once I've got the bathroom door locked behind me, I let myself break a little. But not so far that I can’t put the shards back together quickly; I never know when he might come in. I dig a razor blade from the vanity drawer before climbing into the shower. The hot water doesn’t do anything to melt the ice from my core. Or to make me feel less filthy or guilty. If I were a better boyfriend, this wouldn’t be going on.  
Gritting my teeth, I place the blade to my right forearm. I wince a little as the cold metal pierces my pale flesh. It calms me somehow to watch my dark red blood running down my wrist. I know I shouldn’t cut. But I need someway to cope with this. Unless I open up to Miyagi about this, I have no one to talk to because I’m a whore who’ll sleep with anyone.  
Kishi beats me twice more before the night’s over. Tonight isn’t the first night I’ve cried myself to sleep over him.  
He’s already in a foul mood when he comes in for breakfast.  
“If you ever perform that poorly again, I’ll knock your miserable ass into next week,” he snarls, hauling his fist back.  
I'm getting used to being punched. I went from someone with a horrid temper who wasn’t afraid to fight back to someone with no temper who flinches from a raised hand.  
My breakfast is Kishi’s load. I used to enjoy pleasuring him like that, but I only do it out of fear now.  
Miyagi knows something isn’t right, but he leaves me alone.  
“Is your offer still good?” I mumble.  
He tells me it is.  
“Kishi beats me. I deserve it. I know I'm difficult,” I murmur.  
“I thought he did. You’re always bruised,” Miyagi replies.  
I'm afraid to say more.  
“You don’t deserve to be treated that way,” he tells me.  
“I'm not good for anything,” I whisper.  
He doesn’t try to force me to open up. I don’t say more about the abuse today.  
Kishi calls my cell phone today. I can’t help shaking as I answer it.  
“You are in so much fucking trouble!” he shouts, making me flinch.  
“Wh-what happened?” I ask tentatively.  
“Your fucking ass bled all over the sheets and now they’re ruined.”  
“I'm sorry.”  
“Sorry? Sorry isn’t going to buy sheets, Hiroki.”  
“Kishi, please don’t yell at me. Please.”  
“Are you begging me? I’ll talk to you however I want, you miserable little bitch.”  
I'm scared of him. I'm afraid of being hurt more. Of him killing me.  
_You could always leave. Before it gets worse_ , I realize.  
“Are you fucking cryin’?” Kishi snarls.  
“I'm sorry,” is all I say.  
“Oh, you’re gonna be sorry.”  
His words make me tremble. I'm afraid to leave.  
After a few more minutes of verbal abuse, he hangs up.  
“I could hear him,” Miyagi says gently, laying a light hand on my shoulder.  
I jerk at the unexpected touch. And then I start apologizing.  
“You need to leave him,” Miyagi tells me.  
I nod.  
“This isn’t healthy. What he’s doing to you. What he’s making you do to yourself,” he continues.  
“You know?” I breathe.  
“You left blood all over the sink yesterday.”  
I flinch nervously. Kishi would hit me. Miyagi simply assures me I'm okay.  
_I'm so stupid! It’s Miyagi, dumbass. Not Kishi_ , I growl at myself.  
“I hate myself,” I admit.  
“What? Kamijo, what makes you say that?” he asks.  
“Because of my relationship. Because I'm gay. Because I can’t do anything right. Or good. Or be good. Because my life is a fucked-up mess.”  
“You know what you need? A break. I’ll cover your classes from now until after lunch. Go for a walk or something.”  
I agree quietly. I feel like I'm close to a mental or nervous breakdown. Literally.


	2. 2

  I settle quietly on a bench in the park about a block from the university. The hard wooden seat doesn’t help my sore body any, but it feels good to be away for a little bit.

  “Are you okay?” a soft male voice asks.

  I look up to see a tall, black-haired man standing in front of me. His blue eyes are kind; I still flinch from him.

  “I'm fine,” I mumble.

  “You were crying. I thought maybe something was wrong,” he explains.

  He sits next to me slowly. I curl up into a ball as best as I can.

  “Kusama Nowaki,” he tells me.

  “Kamijo Hiroki,” I mumble.

  “Do you mind if I call you ‘Hiro-san’?”

  I shake my head.

  We talk for a little bit. He’s an intern at the local hospital. He’s actually really nice.

  “Are you busy tonight?” he asks.

  “Sorry. I have a lover,” I reply.

  He seems genuinely disappointed.

  “Besides, I'm not good enough,” I murmur.

  Unless he’s as uncaring as Kishi, he’s probably noticed I haven’t tried to uncurl from my ball.

  “Who told you that?” he asks.

  I don’t answer. I see Kishi’s car at the curb. I don’t want to incriminate myself further.

  Kishi doesn’t say a word until he’s standing in front of the bench.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” he demands.

  “We were just talking,” I reply.

  “Yeah, right, slut.”

  He drags me from the bench by my hair. I whimper softly from the pain. I'm scared to try standing; I figure I’ll just be knocked down. He doesn’t get to hurt me; Nowaki pushes him away.

  “Kishi, we’re done. I'm getting my stuff and leaving,” I say firmly.

  “Good. I don’t need you anyway,” he spits.

  “Hiro-san, may I help you up?” Nowaki offers gently.

  I shake my head. I don’t want someone touching me.

  “Do you have somewhere to stay?” Nowaki asks.

  I shake my head again.

  “You could stay at my place if you wanted. Um, it’s two bedrooms, so you’d have your own room,” he tells me.

  I think I might be crazy for doing it, but I agree to stay with him.

  Nowaki walks with me to the university. I'm unsure why until I see my reflection in the door. I look haunted. Scared.

  “Are you gonna be okay?” he asks gently.

  “Yeah, I’ll be fine,” I reply.

  “What time should I pick you up?”

  “I’ll be done by five-thirty. You can go up to the office if you want. It’s on the second floor, room 504.”

  I'm nervous about living with him. I'm afraid he’ll be even worse than Kishi.

  Nowaki’s in a cheerful mood when he comes to get me. The only time Kishi was in this kind of mood was when he planned on a long evening of BDSM—his fetish, not mine.

  “I got your stuff,” he tells me, smiling.

  I tremble at the thought of him seeing some of the things Kishi made me wear, things I know Nowaki undoubtedly saw. I know he probably saw the pictures Kishi took of me, pictures of me being raped or beaten by doms. The thoughts make me sick.

  “I didn’t take the pictures; I wasn’t sure if those were yours or not,” he tells me.

  “Thank you,” I sigh, relieved.

  “I got your books.”

  His words make me smile.

  “How long have you been teaching?” he asks.

  “About a year. How long do you have left on your internship?” I reply.

  I'm no good at the whole small talk thing. I'm barely good at being around people now.

  “Two years. I just started it,” he tells me, smiling warmly.

  I'm afraid he’ll be angry that I'm not very talkative. But he isn’t. At least, not right now anyway.

  I'm scared of a beating when we get to his apartment. Or being screamed at.

  “You can do whatever you want,” he tells me, smiling.

  His permission doesn’t make me relax.

  I keep my eyes down as I sit on the couch. My ass and back protest angrily; I'm hoping he doesn’t know I hurt so bad.

  “Hiro-san, are you okay?” he asks gently.

  I don’t have enough pride left to lie to him.

  “What happened?” he presses gently.

  “Never mind. It’s stupid,” I reply.

  “Hiro-san, were you…raped?”

  I hate admitting it. I hate myself for letting it happen.

  “Do you want to go to the hospital? How long ago was it?” he asks, his training beginning to kick in.

  “Last night,” I whisper.

  “Do you want me to take you to the hospital?”

  “I don’t wanna be a burden.”

  “You’re not. If you don’t want a rape kit, will you go get tested tomorrow?”

  "I can't have a rape kit done. I showered after he got done."

  "Do you wanna get tested and make sure you aren't hurt?"

  I agree to make him happy. I'm afraid of being told I'm a nuisance because I'm hurt.

  During the exam, he keeps me distracted while they see if I'm torn up. He’s asking me what I like about different authors and what I dislike. I'm surprised he’s this interested. Kishi hated it when I read; I focused wholly on the book and not him.

  “Kamijo-san, you’re torn up but you should heal on your own,” the ER doctor tells me.

  I don’t sleep well tonight. I make Nowaki breakfast.

  “Hiro-san, whatever you cooked smells amazing,” he praises, smiling.

  I manage a tiny, shy smile of my own at the praise.

  “Why did you only make enough for one?” he asks.

  “Um, aren’t I supposed to, you know, have _that_ for breakfast?” I reply, hoping he understands.

  “Sit down and eat.”

  I sit quietly between his long, lean legs. My hand trembles as I start stroking him through his black skinny jeans. I haven’t gotten very far when his long fingers wrap loosely around my bony wrist. I cringe expectantly.

  “I'm sorry,” I murmur fearfully.

  I'm unsure what I’ve done wrong. I don’t know what he likes, so I'm just guessing. Maybe I was too rough? Or too gentle? Maybe he’s straight? Or maybe he’d rather fuck me than get a blowjob?

  “Hiro-san, you have nothing to be sorry for. It was my fault; I didn’t make myself clear. I meant for you to sit at the table and I’ll make you some breakfast,” he replies gently, letting me go.

  I'm still afraid of being hit as I slink out from under the table.

  “You don’t have to cook for me,” I murmur uncomfortably.

  “I want to, Hiro-san,” he replies, smiling brightly.

  I don’t like being taken care of. It only proves Kishi’s point that I'm weak.

  “Ano, what do you like to eat?” he asks.

  I look up uncertainly. Kishi would want me to say I love eating cum. But I don’t know what Nowaki would like.

  “I don’t really eat much,” I admit.

  The truth is I'm used to being starved or forced to purge.

  “What sounds good to you?” he asks.

  “Can I have some rice and eggs?” I ask.

  “Sure.”

  He smiles happily at my response.

  “Would you like me to make you a bento box for lunch?” he asks.

  “You don’t have to,” I reply.

  “Okay, Hiro-san. Do you want microwave ramen? Or I could bring you something on my break? But then it would be more like supper.”

  “I don’t usually eat lunch.”

  “Do you have my number in your phone?”

  I shake my head.

  “Is it okay if I put it in your phone so you can call me if you need to? Or want to,” he says quietly.

  I hand him my cell phone. Without realizing he’ll be able to see where I’ve cut myself.

  “You cut, Hiro-san?” he asks.

  He doesn’t sound judgmental.

  “Sometimes,” I reply, crossing my arms to hide the marks.

  “If you need someone to talk to about it, I’ll listen,” he tells me.

  I shake my head quietly.

  He lays my phone on the table along with my breakfast.

  I'm quiet during the meal. I'm not used to getting to eat my fill.

  He lets me wash the dishes while he fixes his lunch. Despite my protests, he makes me a bento box. His kindness amazes me.

  “Thank you,” I mumble.

  “You’re welcome, Hiro-san,” Nowaki replies.

  He wants to take me to work. I'm afraid he believes what Kishi said about me being a slut.

  _Why would he? We’re not even together. Maybe he thinks Kishi will come looking for me, which I wouldn’t doubt him doing,_ I wonder.

  I don’t want the ride. But accepting it is easier than being abused for saying no.

  Miyagi’s not there when I get there. The solitude’s pretty nice.

  By the time he finally comes in, it’s almost time for classes to start.

  “Shinbou decided he wanted to top last night,” he informs me.

  His words bring a hot blush to my cheeks. I really don’t want or need to hear about his sex life.

  “You know, I didn’t realize how bad it hurts,” he tells me.

  I don’t say anything. There’s no reason for me to.

  While I'm on my lunch break, Nowaki texts me. It scares me.

  _Hey. I just wanted to check on you. Is your day going okay?_ it reads.

  It surprises me that he cares this much.

  _I'm okay. I guess. Am I in trouble or something?_ I text back.

  It takes him a few minutes to text me.

  _No. He only texted you when he was mad? Have you felt like cutting any?_ his reply reads.

  _Yeah. No, I haven’t,_ I text back.

  _I'm glad._

 _It’s not like I did it everyday, so don’t get all excited,_ I think.

  He’s waiting for me when I leave. He looks so happy to see me for some reason.

  _What’s he plannin’ on doin’ to me?_ I wonder suspiciously.

  “How much trouble am I in?” I ask.

  “Hiro-san, you’re not in any trouble,” he replies.

  I don’t believe him. I don’t have any reason to.

  “How did your day go?” he asks, opening the car door for me.

  _Oh, so you want an excuse to feel me up?_ I think, my eyes narrowing.

  I slip inside the car tensely. He doesn’t touch me, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t looking or thinking about touching me.

  He’s waiting patiently for my answer.

  “It was fine,” I reply.

  “Is there anywhere you’d like to go while we’re out?” he offers.

  The last time I asked to go anywhere, I got the living shit knocked outta me.

  I shake my head. I don’t wanna play anymore sick games.

  “Do you mind if I stop somewhere?” he asks.

  I shake my head again.

  He stops at a bookstore.

  “There’s another volume of a manga I like out,” he explains.

  I wait for permission before getting out of the car.

  “I’ll be in the manga if you wanna look at books,” he tells me.

  It makes me feel better to look at books. I'm afraid he’ll be cruel if I ask to buy anything. I have a little money, but he probably will want me to spend it on him.

  Nowaki finds me browsing in the fiction section. I'm in my own universe right now.

  “Did you find anything?” he asks gently.

  I jump in surprise. I really hate it when people come up behind me.

  “Sorry. I'm sorry. I didn’t know if I could buy anything,” I mumble.

  “You can buy whatever you want,” he tells me.

  “Oh. Um, thanks.”

  I'm afraid he’ll beat me when we get home. Or rape me. I'm sure his worry is just a cover. It wouldn’t surprise me.

  I'm trembling as we go inside his apartment. I keep my gaze focused on the floor. I don’t want a blow for looking at him.

  “Hiro-san, I’ll make supper since you cooked breakfast,” he tells me.

  “Oh, that’s okay. I don’t mind cooking,” I reply.

  I'm used to doing the majority of the domestic duties. Or being beaten if I don’t.

  “I'm sorry,” I murmur, realizing my stubbornness might piss him off.

  I'm starting to get depressed. I feel like nothing I do is good enough or right.

  “Can I read?” I ask timidly.

  “Go ahead. What would you like for supper?” he replies, smiling warmly.

  “I’ll eat anything.”

  I sit quietly on the couch with one of the books I bought today. I can’t focus like I usually do.

  “Hiro-san, are you okay?” he asks from the kitchen.

  “I'm fine,” I reply.

  I lay my book on the couch and slink into the bathroom. I don’t have any razor blades, but I’ve got other options. I slice my wrist with the sharp end of the nail file. It hurts like a bitch, but it makes me feel more in control. It takes a lot of work to cut myself with the file, but I get it done.

  “Hiro-san, supper’s done. You okay?” Nowaki calls from outside the bathroom door.

  “I'm fine,” I mumble.

  I wipe the file clean with some hand sanitizer on a paper towel and rinse my cuts. I could kick myself right now; he’s gonna know I’ve cut myself.

  Nowaki takes one look at my cuts and grabs me in a tight hug.

  “You can tell me when you feel like doing this,” he murmurs gently.

  “You’re hurting me,” I choke.

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  He lets me go. I'm shaking. He really scared me. He’s taller than Kishi and stronger; it would be easy for him to hurt me more if he wanted to. I press carefully against the wall. I don’t want him to use me as a punching bag.

  “Ready for supper?” he asks.

  I go straight to bed after supper. I feel horrible. I know I should probably get help, but I doubt Nowaki would want me to. Or would support me. If I asked him for help, he would probably hate me.

  I can’t sleep. I'm afraid of hurting myself worse if I cut again, but I need it.

  Nowaki’s already made breakfast when I get up. I'm unsure why he’s being so nice.

  “Good morning,” he says cheerily, smiling brightly.

  “Is my cooking that bad?” I ask hesitantly.

  “No, it’s fine. I don’t want you doing all the work.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “You aren’t my servant, Hiro-san.”

  I'm scared he’ll beat me for disagreeing with him. I don’t want to be.

  “I-I-I'm sorry,” I murmur, slinking away from him.

  “I'm not gonna hurt you,” he assures me.

  “Kishi did. What’s the difference?”

  “I'm not a cold-blooded monster like him.”

  I don’t believe him. I have no reason to believe he won’t turn my body into hamburger the minute I let my guard down. Kishi beat me that bad one night. I had been bad, though, so I deserved it.

  “I'm sorry he hurt you,” Nowaki tells me.

  He seems sincere.

  “First chance you get, you’ll knock the shit outta me too. Why shouldn’t you beat me?” I reply.

  “Because you’re a human being, not a punching bag,” he says.

  “So, what, you plan on raping me until I can’t get up? Starving me again? I just wanna know what to freakin’ expect!”

  “How do I get you to believe me, Hiro-san? I'm never gonna hurt you.”

  “They always do. Why should you be different?”

  I know I'm asking for a beating, but I just wanna understand why he thinks he’ll be any different.

  He reaches towards me slowly. Every muscle in my body tenses for a blow. He simply pulls me close to him. I don’t like being held. But I accept the touch. He wraps his arms gently around my trembling body.

  “Will you let me show you the kind of love you deserve?” he whispers gently.

  I nod because I feel like I don’t have a choice.

  He ruffles my hair softly.

  “I, um, I don’t have classes today,” I murmur.

  “Okay. Hiro-san, what would you like to do?” he replies gently.

  He sounds like he genuinely wants to know what I’d like to do. I want to curl up with a book and a cup of hot coffee. But he might want me to be cuddly or service him.

  “Whatever you want,” I tell him quietly.

  “Do you feel like going outside?” he asks.

  I shake my head slowly.

  “Do you want anything special for dinner?” he asks.

  “I don’t know,” I reply truthfully.

  Kishi didn’t like me going out, so I haven’t eaten out in about two years.

  He kisses my forehead lightly. I don’t like this. I don’t like being touched like this.

  “Gomen nasai, Hiro-san,” he murmurs, backing off.

  “You don’t have to apologize,” I tell him.

  “Hiro-san, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

  I flinch timidly. I'm sure this is gonna come with a blow. Probably to my junk. Or my stomach.

  “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it,” I mumble.

  “It isn’t okay. I don’t want you to feel like you _have_ to let me touch you,” he counters.

  I nod slowly. Whether I wanted someone touching me or not has never mattered before. Why now all of a sudden?

  “I'm not very cuddly,” I admit quietly.

  I’d rather admit it and get the beating over with than him find out the first time he tries to hold me.

  “That’s okay,” he tells me.

  He lets me help with supper. He’s kind enough not to ask me questions about how Kishi treated me. It’s kind of nice.

  “What would you like to do after dinner?” he asks.

  “Anything but sex,” I murmur.

  “Do you wanna watch some movies?”

  “If you do.”

  He doesn’t seem willing to do anything I don’t want to. I'm surprised by his kindness.

  “Hiro-san, you’re allowed to have an opinion,” he tells me.

  _Oh, shit. I pissed him off. Stupid, stupid, stupid!!_ I scold myself, trembling.

  “I'm sorry, Nowaki,” I mumble, curling in on myself.

  “You aren’t in trouble. I'm sorry. I didn’t mean for you to think that way,” he says, horror in his voice.

  “It’s okay. I'm stupid.”

  “You’re not stupid. I think you’re very intelligent.”

  I stare at him in shock. He’s smiling gently. I'm not really sure what to say to the compliment.

  “Hiro-san, I promise to love you the way you truly deserve,” he murmurs.

  Before, ‘love’ always meant rape. Pain. But he isn’t grabbing at me. If he wants to love me the way I deserve, why isn't he screaming at me or demanding I put out? Or just taking sex from me?

  “I hate to bust your bubble, but you can’t love someone who doesn’t know what love is,” I tell him.

  I know I’ll probably get punched for saying this.

  “Then I’ll teach you,” he replies gently.

  I flinch when he pushes my hair gently from my eyes. I had expected a slap. Not being caressed.

  “Sorry. Ready to start our movie thing? I don’t really know what to call it; I'm not sure your point of view on it. Do you want popcorn?” he says.

  “Yeah. I don’t know. I like popcorn,” I reply quietly.

  “Do you wanna take turns picking the movies?”

  I nod.

  I learn quickly he loves scary movies as much as I do.

  “Do these give you nightmares?” he asks suddenly.

  “No. Do you get nightmares from them?” I reply, reaching absently for the popcorn.

  It’s denim, not popcorn, I'm grabbing. I look down to see I'm grabbing Nowaki’s junk.

  “Sorry,” I whimper, moving my hand.

  Kishi would’ve thrown me on the couch and raped me or demanded I suck him off. Nowaki simply assures me it’s okay.

  “To answer your question, yeah, I have nightmares,” he murmurs.

  “I used to watch them to cope.  No matter how scary they were or how bad things were, it always had to end. I felt the same way about how I was being treated,” I admit warily, my cheeks flushing.

  “And it did end.”

  I nod quietly.

  He asks to sleep in my room. I'm afraid to say yes and terrified to say no. But I agree.

  I'm trembling as I lie down with him. He doesn’t grab me, which is nice. He just lays there and gazes at me.

  “Hiro-san, I can put a pillow between us if it would make you more comfortable,” he offers.

  I don’t understand why my comfort matters so much. But I agree. I would like the small barrier.

  I wake to Nowaki’s alarm going off a few hours later. I don’t feel like he raped me. I'm not sore or anything.

  “Good morning, Hiro-san,” he yawns, stretching like a cat.

  “Good morning,” I croak.

  “You’re so cute when you just wake up.”

  “So that was a date last night?” I ask.

  “To me, yes.”

  “Okay, then.”

  He smiles lovingly. I don’t understand what he exactly sees in me.

  “Nowaki, I think you’re crazy,” I mumble, standing slowly.

  I half expect pain when I stand, but there isn’t any.

  “I didn’t have any nightmares,” he tells me.

  “That’s good. You didn’t rape me either,” I reply, going to shower.

  He doesn’t walk in on me. He’s waiting patiently by the door when I come out.

  “You have work today?” he asks, glancing over my work clothes.

  “Yeah. I’ll probably just grab some coffee and leave,” I tell him.

  “Oh. No breakfast?”

  “I don’t have time.”

  “Okay, Hiro-san.”

  He makes me lunch again. I don’t understand why he insists on taking care of me like this.

  “Thank you, Nowaki,” I mumble, accepting the food.

  I have a horrible day today. My fear Nowaki might flip and beat me doesn’t make it any better.

  Nowaki’s working late today, so I have to walk home.

  I'm a block away when I see him. Tall, slim, blond. And he’s walking towards me slowly. I'm so scared I can’t breathe. There’s a flower shop across the street from me; I decide to take refuge there.

  “Hiro-san, what’re you doing here?” Nowaki asks, coming slowly to check on me.

  “K-K-Kishi. He—He saw me,” I murmur fearfully.

  “You’re okay. You’re safe. I won’t let him hurt you. Ever.”

  The bell on the door jingles as someone opens it.

  “There’s my little slut,” Kishi purrs.

  “Hiro-san, go in the break room. You’ll be safe in there,” Nowaki whispers.

  I curl up under the plastic table with my book bag clutched to my chest. I'm terrified. I can hear them arguing loudly.

  Nowaki comes to get me when Kishi finally leaves. He doesn’t seem hurt, just worried.

  “Are you okay?” he asks gently once I finally crawl out from under table.

  I nod slowly. I really am okay. I'm just scared.

  “I'm fine, Nowaki,” I reply.

  “My shift ends in ten minutes. You can stay back here until then if you want,” he tells me, smiling.

  I nod quickly. I'm afraid Kishi will be looking for me.

  Nowaki is kind enough to leave me alone about what happened.

  “Was your day okay?” Nowaki asks gently once we’re home.

  I shake my head.

  Kishi would’ve probably hurt me or screamed at me. Nowaki simply holds my hand. After asking me if it’s okay. I'm not used to this kind of consideration.

  “I’ll listen if you wanna talk about it,” he offers.

  I look up at him warily.

  “I don’t know,” I mumble.

  The last time I told anyone why my day sucked, I wound up being screamed at and beat.

  “Okay. Is there anything I can do to help you destress?” he asks.

  “I need to get my grading done,” I reply.

  “Okay.”

  He gives my hand a gentle squeeze before releasing me.

  I hadn’t meant to be cold. I really just wanna be alone for a little bit.

  I slink quietly into the living room after doing my grading.

  “Nowaki?” I call shyly, leaning on the kitchen doorway.

  “Hey. All done?” he asks, smiling.

  “Yeah. I'm done.”

  “Hiro-san, I’d like to take you on a real date soon.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “It’s okay if you’re not ready. I won’t force you.”

  Being forced into things is all I’ve had from a relationship.

  “I, um, I was wanting to ask you something,” I murmur timidly.

  “Ask me anything you want, Hiro-san,” he grins, leaning forwards eagerly.

  _When’s the last time someone cared that much about anything I had to say?_ I wonder, gazing at him in surprise.

  I barely manage to stammer through asking if I'm thin enough to suit him. I know my face is bright red.

  He stands slowly. The movement has me worried; I'm afraid he’ll test out how easy he can throw me around during sex.

  “How much did you weigh last time you checked?” he asks gently.

  “Um, about forty kilo,” I murmur.

  “How tall are you?”

  He doesn’t sound angry, just very concerned.

  “5’9’’. I could probably lose more,” I reply.

  “Hiro-san, you’re very underweight. You’re not healthy,” he tells me.

  “I thought I was supposed to be small?”

  “Being skinny’s fine, Hiro-san, but you’re almost to the point where you need hospitalized.”

  I gaze up at him nervously. I'm scared he’ll punish me.

  “Will it offend you if I ask how this started?” he asks.

  “He liked me to be small so he could maneuver me during sex,” I whisper.

  Before I realize it fully, hot tears are trickling down my face.

  “You don’t ever have to worry about that here. I promise. Do you starve yourself or make yourself purge?” he whispers.

  “I didn’t do this, Nowaki! He made me. He wouldn’t let me eat. He made me throw up. He force-fed me laxatives for God’s sake!” I shout angrily.

  “I'm sorry, Hiro-san. I thought you did it yourself to make him happy.”

  I shake my head. His words hurt more than he probably cares to know.

  “I'm so sorry. I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I should’ve asked you instead of assuming,” he murmurs gently, running his fingers gently through my hair.

  “It’s fine,” I mumble.

  “I really am sorry. If all you’ve ever done is give your love without getting anything back, will you allow me to love you the way you truly deserve?”

  _Love? You mean sex, right? Since you said you won't beat me. I don't really want it, but I don't want you mad,_ my mind whirls.

  “How do you want me?” I ask quietly, fumbling with the buttons on my shirt.

  Maybe if I show a little willingness he’ll be gentle. Or he might not care how willing I am. The thought of being raped again turns my knotted stomach to lead.

  “I'm not after anything sexual. Love doesn’t mean that, not to me,” he murmurs.

  “Oh. I-I guess.”

  His blue eyes sparkle happily at my soft acceptance.

  “You’re beautiful,” he tells me.

  “I cut. I'm too thin,” I reply.

  “You’re still beautiful.”

  I hadn’t meant to let him in. I hadn’t meant for him to break any of my walls. But some of them have.


End file.
